


imagine me and you

by rehancel



Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell, Simon Snow & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Universe - Spies & Secret Agents, Banter, Domestic Fluff, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Gift Fic, Light Angst, M/M, Secret Identity, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-04
Updated: 2021-01-31
Packaged: 2021-03-14 18:28:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 10,576
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28550142
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rehancel/pseuds/rehancel
Summary: Charlie Waterson and Elijah Snow — the happily married couple with their fluffy white dog that's always in the car's backseat.Only they're not.They're agents from the Watford Intelligence Agency.And if there's one thing they'll tell you about their assignment, it's that sometimes the best acting comes from the heart.
Relationships: Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow
Comments: 14
Kudos: 68
Collections: COE Winter 2020





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [nightimedreamer](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nightimedreamer/gifts).



> My gift to you for Carry On Winter Exchange, hope you like it :)

The dog is visible in the backseat, tail wagging, when Snow turns into the driveway of the Council building. It's a ridiculously ostentatious one, the committee here is absurdly insistent on preserving 'cultural heritage'. That, of course, leads to extremely tedious security measures to keep it safe, leading to extremely long pick-up and drop-off queues, but anything to look good, I suppose.

"And there's your husband," The security guard at the exit remarks. Robert, I've learnt, is his name. Nice guy, likes to chat. A bit too much to be comfortable. "And the big doggie in the back seat,"

"His name is Aero," I smile, moving along the exit line as my bag moves through the scanner.

"Your husband likes picking you up then? Pretty sure he gets off earlier than you.”

"He does," I say fondly. "Says it makes him feel like a gentleman."

"Your dog must like it too, I always see that pupper around," He chuckles.

"He does too," I shake my head. "Insists on coming with us everywhere we go, even just for a short drive."

Snow pulls up just as my bag comes out from the conveyor belt. I tap my card and wave at Rob.

"Hello, darling," Snow says as I enter the car. I give him a kiss on the cheek and an obligatory pat to Aero. 

And then we're off, and the pattern is set.


	2. Chapter 2

When we finally reach home, behind closed doors and away from prying eyes, I sigh and melt into the couch.

"Long day, my pumpkin pie?" 

"Shut up, _Elijah Snow_ ," I can hear him snickering.

"Elijah _Waterson_ ," He corrects. “We’re married, remember?”

I just toss my socks at him and go shower.

"We’ve got mail," He sings when I come out from the bathroom, holding a thin piece of paper between his fingers, from intel extraction today. Seems like official instructions have come along.

"What’s it say?"

“It says that we have a retrieval mission,” He frowns as he decodes the message, his tongue sticking out. It’s his concentration face. Which is different from his stressed out one. I’ve been acquainted with many of his faces by now, I must say I’m rather fond of a number of them. Anyway.

“Nuclear plans, from our favourite ass-mole.” He grins at his joke. I roll my eyes and he continues.   
“They’re selling coordinates and the codes from both the Council and our agency. Seems like our mole is tricky.” It’s true, our mole is tricky and extremely annoying. It’s been two years and we’ve scarcely made progress at finding out who they are.

“Launch codes,” I mimic. “So boring.”

“Right? People are obsessed with launch codes. Maybe that’s one thing spy films do get right, everyone dies for launch codes.” Snow laughs.

We snicker about it for a few moments before he continues. "The exchange is happening at our Council party two nights from now." I must say, it sounds fun. It’s a pretty high-class party, exclusive to Council members and whatever VVIPs the heads want there, and it’s basically the Council’s way of making up for the terrible work standards there.

"You’re making contact tomorrow with the person who’s helping us on the mission." He hands me the slip of paper with the location. I take it, glancing it over, then look up to where Snow’s silent, thinking about something.

"Let’s get to work, then.” And we go to sleep.

(I mean, it is part of the job.)

On the floor, Aero snuffs his breathless hiccupy noise, Snow insists he doesn’t snore like that, but I know better. (I sleep beside him, of course I do).

Snow’s still thinking, from the looks of it. He’s angled to my side. He wants to talk. I wait for him to do so, as I always do.

“What do you think happens to Aero after all of this?” He flips over, a wave of warmth washing over to my side of the bed. I sink in unconsciously.

"You're assuming this ever ends," I scoff, turning to face him. This assignment has been going on for close to two years, we might as well be married in real life.

"We could get married and adopt Aero," I say.

"Baby, I always thought your proposal would be more extravagant," His eyes twinkle in the dark of the room, streetlight opposites casting a strip of light across his forehead. “But I suppose I’ll say yes either way.”

"Great, once I grow out this damned hair we'll elope."

"Your hair's _fine_ , stop complaining," He pats my head half sarcastically. I bat his hand away.

“We won’t see each other after this, will we?” He says after a few beats, like it’s a statement. I feel my chest sink. It is a statement. It isn’t just that we won’t see each other, but that we can’t. Mission partners always change, it’s to protect us. We can’t tell each other much about ourselves, but Snow has always been bad at following that one rule. I suppose he gets attached easily. Either that, or he hasn’t had a bad enough experience to see why the rule is there in the first place.

(The last time it happened to me, I only got to know what happened to my partner from a mission report. Apparently she bit down on the end of her glasses, where the cyanide was kept, right as they sat her down. She was dead before she even hit the floor, they said. I hope she was.)

“Even after all this, you’ll just be Snow. And I’ll just be Charlie. It’s just the way it is, I guess.”

“There’s no ‘just’ in any of that.” He says fiercely. I don’t know what to say to him. “Two years acting as a literal couple and we’re expected to _not get attached_ and just screw off when it’s over. We’re not robots, you know. There are parts of ourselves in our aliases as well. 

Not all of it is acting.” He says the last part sadly, and I want to reach over, but I don’t.

I would usually chide him, remind him why it’s necessary. And all of that would be while I pride myself on being able to separate work from personal matters (though very few things are in the latter category nowadays). He knows I’ll say it, I always do. But now, I can feel the storm swirling in his head, the kind of thoughts you can feel him battling, the tension that makes you understand why he always says he doesn’t like thinking. And I can’t bring myself to say anything that matters.

So instead I say softly, “Snow?” 

"What," He says grumpily, but I know he’s grateful I’ve spoken.

"For what it's worth, I think we'd get along well in real life,"

He huffs a breathy laugh, "well enough to get married?" And I think we’re alright, at least for now.

Our fading laughs tucks us in, lulling us into a comfortable sleepiness. I shift closer to him and he relaxes beside me, arm thrown somewhere above my head on the pillow.

"G'night," He mumbles.

"Goodnight, Snow,"


	3. Chapter 3

We leave in the morning. I have contact to make, and Elijah and Charlie have errands to run. Which isn’t untrue for us, we do need more butter. And flour and oil and whatever other cooking needs Snow requires. This assignment has opened my eyes to the possibilities of home-cooked food because I swear, Snow may not seem like it, but he is a terrific cook. I’ve been spoilt by all the things he whips up when he’s bored. Which is most of the time. When we’re not feeding intel to the agency, he’s feeding me. And I can’t say I mind.

Snow is unusually jittery as we get in the car. I point it out, and he eyes my jiggling leg. Okay, so we’re both nervous. 

I don’t know why this feels so high-stakes, but considering how the most important thing we’ve done is make out to eavesdrop on some Council heads, it makes sense. But it feels more like excitement than anything, I’m more than happy to get right back into what I’ve been trained to do, to walk around and deceive the world (sounds messed up, but we don’t have time to unpack that). Yet there’s also a sense of nostalgia, or whatever this is, that this means our assignment is ending really soon. Two days left after two years of this entire couple business seems too quick, and a small part of me doesn’t want it to end.

Again, I don’t have time to unpack that, so I settle for turning up the radio and let The Turtles fill in the air. And as we go down the roads I’ve gotten so used to in this time, I’m almost repulsed to find… sentiment in my thoughts. Baz Pitch does not get sentimental. But I suppose I’ve been changed enough by this assignment. I feel more ‘Charlie’ than ‘Baz’. Sometimes I wonder if that's normal. But it's not exactly something to discuss with Snow, or anyone at all, so I'm left pushing those doubts aside.  _ Focus _ .

Snow drops me off at the post office for me to find our contact. He's going back to the Council building, because Elijah has some work left behind, and Snow has scouting to do. We're efficient like that.

I drop off a parcel at the post office, for an apparent friend of mine. I have no idea who the hell Shepard from Omaha is, but he's receiving a nice packet of iron-on patches from the Watersons. Maybe Snow and I should go look for this guy after all this is over.

I dart into the toilet and lock myself into a cubicle. I hang a small mirror on the hook behind the door and get to work. A blond wig, glasses and a suit jacket later, I exit the toilet as a man on a business trip, transferring at the busy train interchange in the middle of the city.

Contact is to be made at the coffeeshop in the station right beside the post office. I walk the short distance there, pushing into the crowd. Crowded places are a breeding ground for anything discreet. Counterintuitive, I know.

It feels off as I move along with the clusters of people as Not Charlie. It feels like it's my first assignment in disguise again, and someone is going to tug off my wig like in that one Barbie movie. (Snow and I have been working our way through them). Yet there's a rush of exhilaration through me. For now I'm businessman Micah, and I'm rushing to get my coffee fix before my train leaves.

I’ve forgotten how much I love this, delving into an entirely new person. Walking like an American, putting on my best accent, holding my phone with my pinky below, putting more weight on my left, it feels so easy. Snow says it’s the drama queen in me, but really, it’s thrilling.

I push open the door of the coffee shop and get in line, scanning the room. I can feel eyes on me, potentially from a Council agent watching in here. A grim reminder of the stakes I’m facing.

I search the counter for my contact. Bunce is her alias, thick glasses, curly purple hair, looking like a bad self-dye job, there, that’s got to be her handing out the coffees.

I order my coffee "with just a touch of cream" and stand around waiting. I make sure to rest my weight on my left, checking my watch periodically. When Bunce is yelling my number annoyed, I hurry up to the counter.

"Number 61?"

"Yeah, with the cream?"

She nods.

"Bit unhealthy, but it's a guilty pleasure," I shrug. Code phrase, I top it off with a smile

"We all have them," She grimaces. "Have a good day, sir," She completes the phrase. I take my coffee from her, wrapping my fingers round it, with the sleeve securely under my fingers. Got it.

"Throw this for me, would you?" I hand her my crumpled receipt, where our coded message is. She takes it. There, check on my first to-do of the day.

I push the door open and step back out into the station. It feels surprisingly good to have something done. I take a sip of my coffee. It's disgusting, but I swallow it anyway. I pause outside, removing my glasses to clean them. I glance at the board displaying train arrival times, then walk in the direction of where Micah is heading.

I only realise my mistake too late. Micah wears glasses, idiot, he couldn’t possibly read the board all the fucking way at the other end. I am so screwed. 

And then I realise my other mistake with slow dread. I didn't go into the crowd when I stepped out of the coffeeshop. A small misstep, but of crucial importance. I didn't check behind me. Because now, I'm fairly sure someone is following me.

There's a prickling sensation on my neck. My heart speeds up, and all I’m thinking is  _ shit shit shit shit fuck. _

As I walk I sneak a glance to the glass panels beside me. My reflection bobs and wiggles as I move past each panel, and so does that of a man in a coat behind me. He was in the cafe earlier, and I can see the in-ear comm he has, as well as the outline of a receiver in the pocket. And he is following me, I’m sure of that now. Well shit me with Merlin’s hairy balls.

I'll have to do something. I wade into the biggest crowd I see in front of me, clattering down stairs alongside a bunch of tourists. Thank god for big burly foreign men, I think as I strip off my jacket. No way to put it into my bag and look discreet, so I chuck it into the bin. Pity, it was a good jacket, but businessman Micah was trash anyway.

If there's one thing I've learnt after becoming an agent, it's that it's surprising how forgiving a crowd can be if you change your clothes in public. In a crowd, you can be invisible. And right now, that's all I'm counting on as I remove my shirt to reveal a black tee on the inside. It goes into my bag, now a backpack slung over my shoulder. Off go my glasses and watch. I stuff earpieces into my ears for good measure.

And last of all, when I barge through a huge family photo taking session, I take a deep breath, and pull my wig off. 

In my head I imagine my real hair flowing out and making me look flamboyantly cool in the process, but with the criminally awkward length of hair Charlie Waterson has, it just flops down limply after being under the wig. It's a cruel mocking that the blond wig was the exact length I'd have my hair be, given the chance. And I looked  _ good _ . (The length, not the  _ blond _ , that would be horrific). But that  _ long hair _ . God.

I would say I've shaken off that man. The next window I pass, he isn't anywhere behind me anymore. I take a proper breath now, giving in to the sour ache in my jaw. This was way too close, too sloppy, and I don’t know how to face Snow after this.

* * *

When I reach home Snow has worked himself up into proper lather, pacing up and down. Aero is scratching at the door as I enter, barking up at me.

Snow rushes over. "Are you alright? What happened? Did you get into trouble? You didn't reply—"

"I'm fine, Snow," I cut him off. "No need to get into a fit."

"I thought something went wrong, it took longer than it should have." He isn't meeting my eyes, fussing around me, taking my bag. His voice getting more agitated, Aero is circling him anxiously.

"You had to change?" He continues. "Look at the way your things are stuffed in here, clearly you were in a rush. That wasn't  _ fine _ , you were followed." He waits a beat. "Right?"

I take my time to finish a glass of water. "Charlie?" He looks over at me.

He looks at me for a second too long, eyes wavering in the way when he reads me too well for my liking. I think he sees all he needs to, because he slows and comes over.

"Must have been scary," He says finally, reaching out to me.

I flinch involuntarily. "Who said anything about being scared?" I snap.

"I'm just saying—"

"Don't," I shoot him a glare. "Don't  _ just say _ anything."

"I was just worried," 

"Oh, whatever for?" I force nonchalance into my voice.

"I was worried about you!" He jabs a finger at me. "I'm your partner, I'd be properly concerned if anything happened to you."

"A mistake on your part then, don't get attached, I've already told you,"

"Why are you being such a knob?" I gape. He doesn't let me respond before he continues. "I was worried about you because I care about you, and you go off acting like I'm to blame for whatever happened out there."

I can't say which part of that made my throat close up, but I don't have a response to that, and instead of trying to reply and winding up blustering like a fool, I curse at him and head to the room.

Snow follows me as I go into the room to change. Like a fucking puppy dog. I ignore him.

"God-awful trousers," I say to myself angrily as I tug them off.

"Ch-"

"Seriously, there isn't anywhere you can get a pair of decent trousers, or good clothes, anymore! Fucking capitalism and fast fashion and mass produced trousers," I curse, tossing them on the ground.

Snow leans against the doorframe, so calm it pisses me off. Snow's pissing me off.

"They aren't bad trousers."

"Sorry,  _ what _ ?" I whip my head around to face him.

"They aren't bad trousers," He repeats, walking up to me. "You're just being an asshole because today didn't go the way you wanted it to."

I still have no response.

"Don't take out your anger on the trousers, jeez," He laughs. I blink. He's laughing, right now?

"Don't take it out on me either, it's not me you're pissed at." He turns serious again. "I dare say it's yourself you're really angry at."

At this point I've fully lost all means of speaking, and in the pit of my stomach is the gnawing sensation that he's right. Snow is right.

But instead of telling him that I just turn away and continue changing. I feel him come up behind me.

"We can discuss what happened today, alright? Just...don't get into such a fit," He rubs the back of my neck and leaves, and I’m stuck there. Standing over the bed holding my shirt, his lingering touch on my neck burning like a huge red mark. Aleister fucking Crowley.


	4. Chapter 4

We go on with our day like nothing happened. The entire assignment was about setting a pattern, and so we continue setting it, going out for lunch at a cafe, bringing Aero along. I don't give Aero enough credit for being quite literally the perfect mission dog. He's never caused so much trouble outside of having to be walked and groomed (that huge shaggy white coat is high maintenance, but it has its uses). I bring this up to Snow, and he says it's because Aero is a snob.

"He looks down his nose at everything,"

Aero does. He seems disinterested, bemused at most, at other dogs' antics, like the spaniel currently yipping around him. Aero harrumphs and shifts closer to our feet under the table.

"Woer oo erring omaro," Snow looks up at me with a mouthful of food. I look back at him questioningly. He swallows.

"What are you wearing tomorrow?"

"A suit," I shrug, "What else?"

"I meant what colour," He waves his fork. "so I can match with you."

I bat his hand away.

"Green," His face falls, and I can't help but laugh. "I'll settle our clothes."

* * *

Back home, I fish the coffee sleeve from earlier from my bag and tear it open, pulling off the corrugated side. There's a line of numbers and letters and symbols written in invisible ink on the inside, one on each fold. I turn on the UV torch on my pen and start to decode it.

"Bunce, the contact from just now, will be posing as security to let us in, " I tell Snow. "And we're supposed to look for this guy, he's the buyer. Edward N- Numpty?"

We look at each other and burst out laughing. In my head all I can imagine is Edward Cullen, but as the troll creature from Frozen. The picture of him looks nothing like troll-Edward, though. Pity.

"Lady Blackwood is going to be there." Snow reads over my shoulder, breath fanning on my neck. I feel myself leaning toward him, my face burning when I realise what I’m doing. 

"Who?"

"Faith Blackwood, the one with the freaky lovers?" Snow moves from behind to sit beside me, his leg thrown over mine.

I hum distractedly. “She might be dangerous,” Snow says, his hair brushing at my face from where he’s squinting at the message.

I blink. "We'll just have to be careful, then." I turn to look at him. He's chewing on his lip.

"Don't bite," I tug at his chin before I realise what I'm doing.

I turn back to the message before he can react. "The codes are on a hard drive,"

"Like the ones from the agency?" Snow asks. "Hm, lacks creativity," He muses. I huff a laugh.

"Who d'you think the mole is?"

"Heck if I know," I shrug.

We run through the other instructions and plan what we should bring. Snow insists on the explosive gum and after arguing about it, I cave when he just leans back and tilts his head and stares at me. “You just think it’s cool!” I tell him, and he doesn’t even deny.

"Pen?"

We make eye contact at that. It's a cyanide pen, with the poison in the cap that we can ingest in case something happens, and we'd rather not be tortured and give up secrets.

It's a risk part of every operation, one that we don't like to think of. It’s barely even a question, so I just nod and write it on the list.

"How about Aero?" Aero shuffles into the room as Snow asks.

"Of course he's coming along. He's part of Lying Dog, remember?" I pull Aero on the sofa beside me.

"I'll pack the cover."

I hum in affirmation as I swivel and rest my head on Aero. (He's a big dog, he can take it). Snow starts laughing. "He looks so shocked." He takes a picture, and Aero's eyes are so wide I can see the whites of his eyes.

I get up and ruffle Aero's fur. "Oh, don't be so scandalised, old man." Aero huffs back at me, as if in contempt. He goes over to Snow, where he plops his entire weight down on his lap. I pout. "Someone's sensitive." Snow just laughs and laughs, putting his arm around Aero, and I can't help but feel content in that moment.

* * *

It's only at night, after dinner and dessert, while we're folding clothes and watching TV (I'm folding the clothes, he's lying down eating chips), then we do address the looming issue that is tomorrow.

"So," He starts. "It's tomorrow,"

I glance up at him. "Yeah,"

He kicks his feet up onto my lap. I flick his toe. "How are we feeling?" He says after stuffing a chip into his mouth.

"Don't get crumbs on the sofa," I say as I fold another one of his shirts. 

"I'm... worried. Worried I'll mess up," I shrug. "Today felt like I was losing touch, and it hasn't even been that long."

"It's been long enough," Snow sits up, placing his bowl on the coffee table. "Been a few months since we've had anything like this, I'm nervous too,"

He licks his fingers and I tsk at him, he smiles sheepishly and goes to wash his hands.

"But at the same time I can't wait for tomorrow," He calls from the kitchen. "Funny, huh?"

"I can’t either," I say when he returns. "There's a hole in your Batman underwear," I hold it up.

"Don't throw it away!" He holds up his Superman underwear. "It's my favourite pair. And it comes in a set. You know that!" He pulls out his Green Lantern one from under the pile of clothes. I shake my head, "Unfortunately.”

"But yeah, I can’t wait either, I'm excited for it,"

"We're the same, you and I," The way he says it makes me look over at him, chest tight. "We like it, the thrill, the danger,"

"You make us sound like masochists,"

"Are we not?" He raises his brows from where he's using the armrest as a pillow.

"Oh, wouldn't you like to know," I toss a shirt on his face, smiling.He waggles his brows in response (tries to, he could never quite master it). 

He speaks up again after I'm done with a few more trousers. "Is that not why we joined the agency in the first place?"

I look up. "Huh?"

"Why did you join?" His gaze is focused intently on me.

I hesitate for a moment. Why  _ did  _ I? "To hide," I say finally.

"To hide," He echoes. "We're all hiding,"

"From who we really are?" I can’t really tell where he’s going with this.

"From ourselves, our real selves." He nods. There's a depth in his far-off gaze, now unfocused in the direction of his feet propped up on the coffee table. Snow's more pensive than he looks. He always says he doesn't like thinking, that he likes to shut off his mind, but when he does tell you what he thinks about, it's astounding. "I can't stand being who I am in real life," It's so simple, so nonchalant, so raw a statement, yet Snow says it without a moment's hesitation. Like he's been waiting to say this. Like he trusts me. And I don’t know how to feel about that. 

"Neither can I," I reply. "Too much responsibility, too many things expected of me. Being an agent, putting on an identity... it feels like I can hide from that."

Maybe I was pissed at myself earlier because it feels like all I know how to do is this. Hide, pretend to be someone else. And if I can’t even do that properly, then who am I really? All I know how to do is hide.”

I realise how it makes me sound so I hurry to continue. "A-and I know that makes me a coward but—"

“Then I'm a coward too." He turns to me, a wry smile on his face, and it's so matter-of-fact it shifts my world ever so slightly to the right. I sit there for a while, running over those words.

"I was in the military," He says softly after a while, and he sounds almost scared. 

Normally I would warn him before he says more than he can, but this doesn't seem like something I can, or want to interrupt. He takes a deep breath, and I can tell he's trying to censor himself, to protect the both of us. But it's hard when all of it is tumbling out of him, so I just nod encouragingly. 

“I was only drawn to it because I didn’t need to think. I don’t like thinking, you know that. I’d rather swing a sword around or fire a gun and just  _ do _ instead of thinking. So after the military, I couldn’t just go back to being  _ bored _ . I had nowhere to go that didn’t need me to think and consider and  _ evaluate my choices _ .” His face twists as he says that.

“The agency was your escape.” I say carefully. Snow nods. “I could do things and I didn’t need to be me.”

"You like the action parts," I say because it’s all I can say, to say it back to him, to let him know I hear him, I’m listening. "You always like them."

"You know, I kept thinking I was like this because of the military. I thought it scarred me, that I feared all the violence and fighting." He hugs his knees, I have the urge to reach over and hold him, but I just put my hand on his arm.

"You don't fear it," I'm incredulous. Snow doesn't fear it at all. "If anything, you're addicted to it."

There's a few beats of silence between us, to which I add after a while, "maybe I am too."

He huffs a laugh. "Now we're addicts and masochists."

I can't keep the smile off my face at that. "We make an odd pair,"

"We do," He nods. He shifts closer to me, knocking his head on my shoulder. "It's why we're so good at this."

"Getting a bit ahead of ourselves, we still have tomorrow," I push my hand into his hair and tug lightly. "We'll be fine, we live in the thrill," He swats at my hand.

"That makes sound cooler than we are, we're just old people eating cold chips and folding our clothes," I pick up the abandoned clothes and continue to fold them. "We are not!" He says indignantly, but picks up a sock to fold anyway.


	5. Chapter 5

"You're really wearing green," is what Snow says when I emerge from the room in what I've deemed appropriate mission attire. He's in a grey suit I picked out, and he looks  _ fantastic _ . I have excellent taste.

"I am," I reply, beckoning over to help me turn over the coffee table. "Does it look good?" I ask him half-tauntingly. I look pretty fine, I know that, I'd spent pretty long picking this out. Would have gone with this utterly stunning blue and red floral suit I saw in town, but it was a tad too flashy for a mission like this. Pity.

"It does," Snow grunts as he tugs open the false bottom of the table, revealing the arsenal of devices we have in there (Okay, not that many, but a nice enough collection). "You look great." He is surprisingly genuine, but I suppose that's how he always has been, mind-blowingly open and sincere with everything. "Thank you," I preen. "You don't look too bad yourself."

We tuck the devices into our suits, guns pushed into a lined compartment on the thicker part of our jackets, emergency knives slotted by our calves, comms linked round the back of our necks (no obvious in-ears, we're much better than that). We don't take too many things, it'd be hard to get so many forbidden items past security. The weapons experts at the agency are insanely good, but there are things I question. We have a tiny tranquiliser gun disguised as an anal plug. I was completely scandalised, but Snow insists it's funny. "We're a gay power couple, it makes sense!"

When we're done we stand by the mirror, making sure nothing can be seen, and that our comms work properly. "Well, don't you look handsome," Aero blinks up at me slowly. Snow's put a tiny bowtie round his neck and untangled the fur on his face, and Aero looks as much of a silver fox an old dog can be.

"How are we supposed to match?" Snow looks between us. "You underestimate me, Snow," I pull out the bowties I've prepared. His matches the green of my suit, and mine is grey. As we put them on I catch his eye in the mirror, raising an eyebrow. He rolls his eyes, "you're amazing." I nod, satisfied.

"Excited?" He asks.

"More than you can imagine," I reach over and adjust his bowtie. "Stop fidgeting," I smack him on his shoulder. "M' ticklish," He mumbles, and his throat bobs. He’s thinking again, I can sense it. I continue tugging at the bowtie. 

"So after tonight—"

"Don't get sentimental, Snow, it’s boring." I interrupt, too quick, half-afraid of what he's going to say.

"I know,  _ don't get attached _ ," He imitates me (I do not sound like that). Then he sighs, and I find myself waiting for what he's going to say next. He will, even if I don't want him to. Snow's stubborn like that. "I just want to say that this assignment has been great, and thanks for being a great partner."

It hangs in the air for a moment. My hands are awkwardly in front of his neck, so I smooth out his lapels shakily, unable to meet his eye. "Save it for after tonight, our job's not done yet." I finally manage to say, stepping back. “Let’s go.”

It’s in the car when I finally cave and say "Snow?"

"Yeah?" 

"You're a great partner too." I concede, and watch as the smile breaks across his face. I sigh internally, Snow's got me sentimental too. And a tiny bit of me panics as I find myself just a little bit attached, to him and maybe even to Aero, but I squash it in favour of turning up the dial. The Buzzcocks fill the air,  _ Ever Fallen in Love (With Someone You Shouldn’t’ve?) _ mocking me. 

Last time, I tell myself. Let’s make it count.

* * *

When we get there, Snow takes Aero to the agreed spot, where an agent can bring him away. We won’t need him for the rest of this mission. I find myself giving him many extra pats before he goes.

“Chaz!” I hear, and I grit my teeth and turn around. Rostad Lamb, and heck if he isn’t the most irritating person I’ve ever met. Snow hates him beyond reason, but I loathe the man purely due to his work ethic. Irresponsible bloke with no integrity when it comes to work. That, and how he insists on calling me Chaz, no matter how icily I call him Lamb. He’s always baring his teeth creepily as some sort of smile. Snow and I have an ongoing theory that he’s a creepy hundred year old vampire.

"Tonight should be fun," He says.

I hum non-committedly. Where the hell is Snow when I need him?

"I'm looking forward to meeting people, if you know what I mean," Lamb smirks. The suggestive tone is lost in his lisp (you notice after a while that it isn't a sexy accent but just plain creepy). I just laugh and nod along.

"You don't seem too excited," Lamb looks at me, and his eyes seem to bore right into mine.

"Oh let me guess," He holds up a hand. "You think it's a poor excuse for the Council to splurge and party when they could have been spending time and money more wisely?"

I’m insulted at the way he tries to imitate me, but I have to admit, it is what I think. "Kind of," I shoot him a crooked smile not unlike his.He laughs, a booming clap among the chatter. He slaps a hand on my shoulder. "Live a little, Chaz, enjoy tonight."

Snow comes back just as I force my cheeks into a smile. I'm not faking it when I clutch at his hand, exclaiming " _ darling _ , I was beginning to wonder where you were!"

We reach the front of the queue, and Rob's there, together with Bunce, disguised as a man. No contoured wrinkles or fake facial hair can hide that piercing glare. Our comms connect under the same frequency, and the light beep grounds me. 

She gets us through the security, as agreed upon, and we move on inside. 

I spare a moment to take in the room. The hall is normally gaudy enough, but they've really gone all out for this party. Someone in Decorations must like tinsel a lot because it's  _ everywhere _ . Gold tinsel by the sides of the entrance, foil balloons hovering around the corners. The lights are dimmed, with only balls of yellow light placed around the space. At the edges where the walls meet the ceiling are strips of light pulsing between warm tones. It's so over-the-top and extravagant, and I love it.

We’re shown to our table, and I note that Rostad Lamb is at the next table. Not the best arrangement, but at least we're not at the same table. "Be thankful for small mercies," I whisper to Snow, and we giggle like schoolgirls.

We take a walk through the hall, shaking hands and smiling and holding onto each other the way the Watersons do, the way we have been doing for the past two years. One of the guys in Snow's department gets mistaken for a waiter in his tuxedo. Snow and I exchange glances and try not to laugh.

All the time Edward Numpty's picture is running through my mind, I'm trying to spot him in the crowd. "I see him, love," Snow says to me, pointing at where my boss is, and Numpty is beside him. With glasses and uglier hair, but he's there.

Snow's wading toward him before I know it, pulling me through the crowd. He squeezes my hand and I squeeze back without thinking. Strange. But nice. Nice, yes. Right, focus on the task on hand.

I go up to my boss to say hi while Snow lingers around Numpty.

"Waterson!" My manager, a stout old man, beams at me. He shakes my hand. "Good to see you, good to see you!"

I return the pleasantries, and let him jibe and poke fun at me. It's all in good nature, of course. But I sure would like to strangle him right now, because  _ who the hell _ asks if you're having a balding problem in the middle of a party when you’ve obviously put in so much effort into looking good? My boss, that's who. I cannot wait to be rid of him.

By this time Snow has given Numpty a polite nod and a customary hand shake, exchanged greetings about how wonderful it was to meet each other, and also attached a penny-sized device to the inside of his jacket.

"Tracker is working," Come Bunce's voice through our comms. I can’t help but feel a thrill at those words. Snow was right, I missed this way too much.

We move back to our seats for dinner and speech. A couple of the Council heads come on stage for a speech, and Snow and I lower our heads to our food almost simultaneously. He grins at me from over his plate.

"Save me a dance later?" He leans over. "I'll always be waiting for you, my darling." I deadpan. Snow snorts, a little too loudly, drawing the attention of several others at our table. I look away in mock-embarrassment, a smile pulling at my cheeks. Bloody idiot. I'm just about to lean over and tell him that we could, theoretically, join the party later on if we were quick, but Bunce’s voice bursts through our comms.

“Numpty’s on the move,”

Snow and I glance at each other, and it is now that I see the eagerness in his eyes that matches mine. I crook my lips ever so slightly, and we get to work.


	6. Chapter 6

That is, after the Council heads are done with their monologues and after we manage to wrangle ourselves from our colleagues. (I barely even talk to half of them at the office anyway).

Snow's arm is wrapped around mine, and we act absorbed in important conversation as we move toward the hallways into the offices, but in reality we're discussing the changes and evolution of Barbie movies.

"I'm not saying the new ones aren't good," I sigh, exasperated. "It's just that they lack something they old ones had. They're more sparkly and pink." I narrow my eyes as Snow opens his mouth to interrupt. "And  _ again _ , I'm not saying I don't like that."

"The old ones had a sort of charm, yes, they had more traditional stories,  _ but, _ " Snow accentuates, casting me a sideways glance. "The new ones are more fun, and the incorporation of modern technology into more traditional tropes is crucial in order to appeal to the younger generation."

"So you're saying you are young, then," I muse. "And I'm old."

Snow cocks his head, the corners of his lips twitching upwards. "Yes, I guess I am,"

"But you're into that," We say in overlapping tones. Matching grins spread over our faces. 

"Alright, you two can stop flirting now, Numpty is heading upstairs." Oh right, Bunce ’is on the other end, and we have a mission to accomplish.

The actual office towers are dimly lit, with only a few lamps lit. It's somewhat comforting, hearing our shoes click on the hard tiles, the cool air still. The lift dings loudly, and we get in. 

"Level 4," Bunce says. "I'm trying to get into the cameras to see what’s going on,"

"Hurry up then, I don't really want to step out into gunfire," I pipe up.

"Be patient, you don't expect me to mash some keys and say ‘I’m in’, do you?"

She makes a fair point, so I shut up.

The lift comes to a stop at Level 3, I quickly move closer to Snow and he puts his arm around me. (Sneaking around pro-tip: people let you off a lot easier if you’re making out).

We turn around just as the doors open, as if caught in the act. The quiet lady who works on my level blinks at us. "Um, sorry boys, I'm going back down?"

"We're going up," I make myself sound a little breathless. Sometimes I astound myself with my genius.

The lady nods hurriedly and looks away. Snow waves hesitantly as the doors close. We look at each other and snicker.

“I just got kicked out of the security feed.” Bunce huffs through the comm. "I think there’s someone else in the system.

"We'll have to be careful," Snow sounds serious, and I’ve got to say, him being focused and doing agent things is pretty sexy. In an aesthetic sort of way, of course.

"Could be dealing with someone dangerous, with an operation like ours." He meets my eye, jaw set. I find myself sobering up too.

When we reach the fourth level it isn't quite as nice to walk through the rows of desks. There could be armed people ambushing us for all we know. My heart races, I want to reach for my gun, back to old instincts. It's too silent, too still. 

"Lounge," Bunce tells us. "Still can’t get into the cameras, but the tracker shows him there, be careful."

The lounge is supposed to be an exclusive, premium, only-accessible-by-card area, but in reality it's a poor excuse of a relaxation area where the Council decided to cut costs on the pantry after spending money on a few couches. It is also linked to the even more private and exclusive lounge of the Council heads.

Bunce's running something on her side, trying to get us through the door without scanning our cards. Another sneaky tactic of the Council's, with the card, they can see who's slacking off too much and depleting their meagre supply of dry-as-heck biscuits. Assholes. I'm starting to think my only motivation for seeing this assignment through is spite.

My hands are slightly shaky as Bunce tells us to 'go right through', my heart pounding hard. Yet there's a part of me that's almost giddy with delight, basking in the sheer adrenaline of an assignment like this.

Snow and I lock eyes, and with a deep breath, I push open the door.

It's empty. Nothing out of the ordinary, so we move along, down the other doors and the small stairs leading to the Heads' lounge.

And then we realise the door to there is ajar. That's as good a sign as any. Bunce gives us a go, and Snow enters first. His gun is up the moment he enters, in a faceoff with Numpty. 

"Hand over the drive," Snow says (I’m surprised he didn’t go with a cooler line, but he’s pretty cool anyway).

"Bloody fucking WIA," Numpty spits and lunges at Snow. I take that as cue to jump on him from behind, grunting ungracefully as I do. His arms are longer than I think, and he grabs my jacket, pulling and tugging. Snow comes charging from the front, hitting him right at his solar plexus. I take the opportunity to hit him on the back of his head, hard. He falls to the ground like a rock.

We go for his jacket, digging through all the pockets and zips. I shine my phone's light through the thin lining of his jacket, and sure enough, there's something in there. Snow is almost too delighted to rip open the seams and pull the drive out. "Barbarian," I mutter, and he scoffs.

"So, we got it." Snow hands it to me. As expected, a typical agency hard drive, a black stick of information. I weigh it in my hand, feeling like something's wrong. "That's it?" There's no way this could be so easy. Snow shrugs.

"I'm back in!" Bunce yells through the comm. "Shit, someone's coming,"

Snow and I glance at each other, and from where we are, crouching over an unconscious man with the seam of his clothes ripped open, it doesn't look good. So we do the only thing we know how. We cling to each other and make out.

On hindsight it was completely stupid and idiotic to do that, making out can't get us out of this one. But then that thought is pushed away when the person that walks into the room is none other than Rostad Lamb.

He tsks. "You know being horny can only excuse you from so much."

We just blink at him, arms still awkwardly around each other. I drop them as Lamb changes his tone.

"Now let's make this simple, hand over the drive." He extends his hand, and my mind is reeling.

Rostad Lamb is the mole? In my head flashes of our interactions, and I'm left wondering, did he know, all this time? About Charlie and Elijah?

"You're the mole," Snow says blankly.

Lamb hums. "Not so much, that would mean I serve one side. I like to think I’m better than that."

Of course. The drive has information on both the Council and our agency. The threat goes both ways, and Lamb being at the center of that meant he had some sort of hold on both sides. He could have an entire network for all we know. And to think I just thought he was an annoying co-worker.

"Two, armed, outside." Bunce says through the comms\\. 

"Oh, by the way, did you like my trick in the security feed?" Lamb asks.

"What-"

"I wasn't talking to you," Lamb stares at me levelly. "I was talking to the person in your ear," He says sweetly.

Bunce swears loudly just as the two come into the room, guns out. God-fucking-damn it indeed.

Now we're outnumbered, with guns pointed straight at our heads and Lamb strutting about in front of us. Great.

"By the way, thanks for taking care of him." He jerks his head toward where Numpty's lying on the ground. "Saves me a lot of trouble." Then before I can even blink, there's a bang, and a hole in the middle of Numpty's head. In the stillness of the entire fourth floor, I feel as if my entire body shakes from the suddenness, my heart speeding up.

"Got no use for him anymore, then?" Snow's surprisingly calm, jutting his chin out.

Lamb wipes his gun on his jacket. "I don't, and neither do I have any for you." He levels the gun at me, and the click echoes through the room. He holds out his other hand. "The drive." And the mirth is gone from his eyes.

I can feel the drive in my pocket, like a huge imprint burning through. Snow and I make eye contact, eyes wide. He's at a loss too. The realisation that I would probably die and still fail this mission comes crashing down, ice cold water raining down on me. I swallow, once, twice, trying to decide what to do. Then it hits me.

I brought an identical drive.

I reach into my pocket slowly, matching Lamb's steely gaze. "Okay," I say, and I pull it out. It feels different, somehow, not hot and heavy with the information that could start a war within seconds. I hold it in my palm, showing it to Lamb, then slowly, slowly, I hand it to him.

He takes it, weighing it in his palm, looking it over. I can't breathe, there's a gun at Snow's head, and I'm staring down another barrel, and it feels like everything weighs in on how well I can pass off an empty drive.

Lamb looks up, a crooked smirk hanging on his face. "Nice try, Chaz," Then he whirls around and shoots at Snow.


	7. Chapter 7

"No!" I scream, lunging forward. He can’t, he can’t just k-, he  _ can’t _ .

Lamb merely steps back, sneering. "You are so predictable."

"Snow!" My voice rises, my heart can barely return to its place in my chest. He's clutching his arm. "I'm fine," He looks up at me and gives me a small smile, but his arm is bleeding and no he isn’t alright and Lamb did that he can’t do that and I can’t believe I let him do that I can’t let him do that and he could kill us now - he could kill Snow.

"For a bunch of elite agents, you show your hand too easily." He looks toward the other two men, and they shove Snow on the ground. I’m shouting before I know it. Then all three guns click.

"Now, the drive. Or you can watch your  _ partner _ bleed."

I can't stop the twitching in my face, or the way my cheeks scrunch up and my muscles tense, or how I hear the beginnings of myself becoming hysterical, and I don't, I can't care anymore. "Don't," My voice shakes, and drive seems to burn even hotter against my thigh.

"Charlie,  _ don't _ ." Snow's looking at me, and he mouths  _ go. _ I know I should, I could get out of here now but I can't make myself move. I want to run over, to tackle all three of them and grab Snow's hand and run but one wrong move and I get him killed and I don't know what to do. I don't know what I can do.

Lamb is scoffing, the other two men just smile and I want nothing more than to make them stop. And Snow is staring right at me, open and earnest and hopeful as always and all I can feel is the drive in my pocket and the glaring realisation that there's nothing I can do.

But then I hear it. Like an angel is speaking in my ear. "Charlie, stall." It's Bunce, back after the long bout of silence, and her voice seems to cool my entire body, clearing the anxious fog in my mind and leaving me sharp and clear. I know what to do, and I'm mortified I compared Bunce's shrill voice to an angel's. Never mentioning that again.

Snow hears too and by the way he's looking at me with his 'I believe in you' face (I've been on the receiving end numerous times, and it shakes your world), he seems to have utter faith in me. 

"I'll give it to you," My voice pitches upward, this time on purpose. "Just...don't hurt him."

Lamb shakes his head, "Two years watching the two of you from across the office," His lips twist acidly. "Looks like someone got too attached."

"Charlie, in ten." Bunce says.

I rummage through my pockets, letting my apparent hysteria consume my image and cloud Lamb's view. Bunce counts down as my finger brushes against the gum in one of my pockets. As in, the explosive gum. The one Snow insisted on bringing.

Oh Snow, you brilliant, beautiful idiot.

"Five," I slip it between my fingers.

"Four," I take the drive out.

"Three," I press the two ends of the gum together.

"Two," I extend my arm slowly to Lamb.

"One." I let them fall.

The explosion rocks the room. 

When it clears and I get up, Snow does too, we braced in time. But for Lamb, he bore the full brunt of the explosion, I don't think he's getting up anytime soon. Good. Snow staggers up toward me. His jacket sleeve is getting darker with blood.

I'm about to help him but the two men are getting up, dazed and confused, but getting up nonetheless. I draw my gun just as two figures rush into the room. A lady with blonde hair and Bunce - now with bright red hair. I’m almost too glad to see her.

They run over and tranquilise the two men. Probably to hand them over to the agency for interrogation later.

"You okay?" I rush over to Snow.

"I'm fine,” He keeps looking at me like that, eyes straight into mine. “No need to get into a fit," He smiles.

I scoff. "Touche."

"I've handled worse, don't worry," Snow smiles at me, "I'm no amateur, you know." He squeezes my arm with his good hand.

I can only shake my head, only now feeling my fingers stop trembling, not wanting him to let go. He’ll be fine. Snow will be fine. The blonde lady comes over and wraps his arm with her shawl. She catches me staring at her and smirks.

"Wellbelove?" I can barely believe my eyes.

"Missed me?"

It  _ is _ her. Wellbelove, from an assignment ages ago, she left the agency long back, and I hadn't seen her since. I never thought I'd see her again.

"Lady Blackwood happened to need me in the area tonight, so I popped by." She shrugs, huge earrings jingling.

"You work for Blackwood now?"

"Oh, no," She rolls her eyes in mock offense. "I'm  _ freelancing _ , you know,"

"Yes, totally." Our eyes meet and I laugh.

"Alright, nice catch up, but we do have an agency to answer to, unlike you," Bunce raises an eyebrow at Wellbelove.

"The agency's sending people for them," She gestures at the three figures on the floor. "We're heading to headquarters for wrap-up." Wellbelove clears her throat, and Bunce sighs. "She's coming along as Lying Dog."

"Lady Blackwood might have some information for the agency," Wellbelove says.

"Well, then," I say, unable to keep the eagerness out of my voice. "let's get the fuck out of this hellhole."

* * *

Perhaps it all came down to how well Lying Dog worked after all, sneaking Wellbelove out of the building under a huge white cover that looked exactly like Aero's fur, right past Robert at the exit. Or maybe it was when Bunce reluctantly told us we did a good job, saying we weren’t as much of a disaster as she thought. Or maybe it was how I had my arm around Snow as we left, his wounded arm tucked at my side. Or maybe it was how we raised our middle fingers as goodbye to the Council building behind us as we drove off, or the knowing glance we shared as we passed the street we lived on for these two long years.

Or even how we were, as usual, treated with pride masked as exasperation by our superiors at the agency.

"The assignment was to retrieve information regarding nuclear plans of both the Council and our agency from enemy's hands, and that was a success." They conceded.

"Still, it would have been nice to know the Council's plans. It would have given us an advantage."

Wellbelove stepped in about then, "As you know, Lady Blackwood knows quite a lot, and in fact," She paused smugly, and glee in her voice was unmistakable. "There might be a pair of blue diamond earrings she was recently gifted that have some information coded in them. And if you played nice, she may or may not let you examine them. But it's all hypothetical, of course."

The panel before us sighed. "I suppose we'll have to proceed with our discussion with the Lady, then." One of them said dejectedly, and I could have laughed. Discussions with Faith Blackwood usually required many, many cups of coffee. And a post-discussion trip to the bar a few blocks down.

As we left, Snow whispered to me, "How do you think Lady Blackwood got that info?"

"Freaky lovers," I whispered back, and we giggled unashamedly.

* * *

We don't leave right after that, both of us stalling awkwardly. I tell him I need to head to the supermarket to get groceries, in hopes that he'd volunteer to come along. I don't want to say goodbye just yet, I do want to say something. I just... don't know how or what yet.

He agrees, obviously, saying he's got things to buy too. I doubt he wants to leave anymore than I want to. He's the one that gets attached, after all. Immediately an image of me freaking out during the assignment flashes in my head and I try to forget it. It's embarrassing, really.

And so I'm pushing the cart down the aisle, Snow trotting by my side as I haphazardly toss generic household items into my cart.

"So," Snow blurts out after a few intense seconds of trying to catch my gaze. "How are we feeling?"

The suddenness startles me, and I laugh. "Well that was not subtle at all."

"Well, it's exactly the easiest topic to broach." He says, then points at the shelves. "The tomato paste. No, the other one, yes."

I put it in the cart. "Are you going to be boring now?"

"You did say I could after the assignment, remember? And I'm not exactly forgetting how you were when I got shot during-"

"Don't remind me," I cut him off, my hand unconsciously batting at him.

"Aw, I care about you too, cupcake," He puts on a baby voice and I shove him against the pasta selves.

"I will miss your cooking, though," I remark as he's choosing vegetables that I can't name.

"Just so you know, I'd gladly cook for you again," He says, and his voice becomes serious. I just smile half-heartedly. I want him to cook for me too.

"Look, I'm just going to say," He turns toward me, hands out and brows in that position when he's about to dump all his raw emotional bullshit (that I love) on you. "that I enjoyed this assignment. A lot."

"You're welcome," I say, but he holds his hand out. "No, just listen to me. No, shut up, you talk too much." He clamps his hand over my mouth.

"I know you're going to tell me that I'm getting too attached, but I daresay you did too." I go silent at that. He won't ever let me live that down.

"We got to know each other pretty well already, I was thinking... What if we started at the basics? Really got to know each other properly? Just imagine, imagine me and you, without all the Waterson crap. We could… be friends?"

_ I do _ , I want to say,  _ I do imagin _ e. But all that comes out of my mouth is a long sigh.

"I know you're going to say something stupid like we only got to know our aliases, but honestly, I don't think you can fake your tendencies to lean into me in your sleep, no matter how good an actor you are.

The point is, I know enough. I might not know your name, but I know how you are, how when you're embarrassed you look to your right and then up, how when you're speechless you purse your lips and when you're too prideful to admit I'm right, you tug on your hair and cock your head like that to look nonchalant."

I freeze from where I am, indeed, looking to my right and then up and pursing my lips and tugging on my hair.

"I know it's dangerous to know each other, but we live in the thrill, remember? And I suppose that danger is enough to make doing boring things fun." He looks at me properly now, eyes blue as ever, waiting for me to say something.

I take a deep breath, knowing he's right, knowing I want to, and I will, say yes. "So, what are you saying?" I can't resist the smile tugging at my lips.

Snow looks at me for a moment and shakes his head, his smile mirroring mine. "Stop smiling like that. You know where I'm going with this, don't you?"

"I do," I nod. "But carry on,"

Snow sighs. "I'm saying, let's be boring together."

"Alright,” I smile, “What  _ boring activity _ do you have in mind, then?" We're moving along the aisles again, I grab a pack of salt and vinegar chips off the shelf. He frowns at me, then grabs a pack of sour cream and onion ones. It’s our long standing chip flavour debate, and I’m not backing down anytime soon.

"I was thinking, a date? I already know what you like to eat anyway." He says, the smugness in his tone evident.

"Okay," I nudge his shoulder. "Shouldn’t I know your name, first?"

His smile now is brighter than ever, his cheeks squishing up to the bottom of his eyes. He looks adorable, I don't even try to push that thought away now.

"Hi, I'm Simon," He sticks out his hand. Simon, I see. Suits him.

"I'm Baz," I take his hand.


	8. Epilogue

A boring week full of dates later, we look for Aero at headquarters, and are only too delighted to see him. Aero is a snob as always, but he lets us pet him and mess with his fur.

"You know, Lamb's network is very much still there, even if he isn't running it anymore." Simon says while ruffling Aero's fur, and I can’t tell if he’s saying it to Aero or me.

“From what I know, Charlie and Elijah have resigned from the Council because it was 'taking time away from their relationship'. They are currently having a nice romantic getaway someplace far far away." I tell him.

"So they could come back," Simon's excitement is clear in his voice, Aero snuffs a little louder at his tone.

"Yes, and maybe even get back to dismantling whatever structure Rostad Lamb had set up." I watch as the smile spreads over Simon's face, the way that makes my chest feel warm.

"Think you can help with that, buddy?" Simon says to Aero, only to be shunned by him as Aero decides to take a nap on his feet. 

"Elijah and Charlie will get busy soon," I tug on Simon's arm, pulling him up. He laces his fingers in mine. "But for now, Simon and Baz have a Barbie movie date to go on."

“So boring,” He says.

“So boring,” I echo.

**Author's Note:**

> find me on [ tumblr](https://rehancel.tumblr.com/)


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